It proved a longer wait than I expected.  The fog gave us no glimpse of the surrounding water, and not another sound enabled us to locate the approaching boat.  I felt convinced we had not been overheard, as no one had spoken above a whisper, and the men aboard had been noiseless in their movements about deck, I had compelled Dorothy to remain on the port side of the cabin, removed from all danger, and the only upright figure in sight was the man at the wheel.  The rest of us crouched along the starboard rail, peering out into the mist, and listening for the slightest sound.  They were a motley crew, armed with every conceivable sort of knife or war club, but sturdy fellows, ready and willing enough to give a good account of themselves.  Watkins was forward, swallowed up in the smother of mist, but Schmitt held a place next me, a huge, ungainly figure in the dull light.  So still it was I began to doubt having heard the voice at all—­could it have been imagination?  But no; that was impossible, for the sound had reached all of us alike.  Somewhere out yonder, that boat was creeping along silently, seeking blindly through the fog to reach our side unobserved—­those Wolves of the Sea had the scent.

I do not know how long the suspense lasted, but, I have never felt a greater strain on my nerves.  Every deeper shadow increased the tension, imagination playing strange tricks, as I stared fixedly into the void, and trembled at the slightest sound.  Once I was sure I heard the splash of an oar, but no one on deck spoke, and I remained silent.  The faint creaking of a rope aloft caused my heart to thump, and when a loosened edge of canvas slapped the mast in a sudden breath of air, it sounded to me like a burst of thunder.  Where were the fellows?  Had they abandoned their search, confused by the fog; or were they still stealthily seeking to locate our position?  Could there be more than one boat, and if not what force of men might such a boat contain?  These questions never left me, and were alike unanswerable.  Unable to withstand inaction any longer I arose to my feet, thinking to pass down the line with a word of encouragement to each man.  A glance upward told me the heavy mist was passing, driven away by a light breeze from the south.  Through the thick curtain which still clung to the deck, I could perceive the upper spars, already tipped with sunlight, and edges of reefed canvas flapping in the wind.  The schooner felt the impulse, the bow swinging sharply to port, and I turned and took a few steps aft, thinking to gauge our progress by the wake astern.  I was abaft the cabin on the port side when Dorothy called my name—­a sudden accent of terror in her voice.